


Towards the Future

by Gayani



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Debstery, F/M, Post Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1508231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayani/pseuds/Gayani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story on the run. Their lives at a crossroads. Set Post Season 7. Debsterish. Also posted at FF.net. Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towards the Future

Like thieves in the night, we run, we hide.

The past falls away like the receding tide.

The future, for now may be unclear.

Won’t you go away with me my dear?

* * *

Another dank motel room. Middle of nowhere, USA. Harrison kicks Deb hard and she wakes with a start. Every night it’s the same routine, Harrison lying between Deb and Dex, kicking the living shit out of both of them. Until they wake up 2, 3, 4 am, groggy and cranky. Then it’s back into the car as they take the back roads, keep to themselves under their baseball caps, dark sunglasses, died hair.

Day three and Deb doesn’t know how much more she can take. Harrison thinks this is all still fun. His four year old mind still too young and innocent to realize his whole world has just fallen apart. She wonders and hopes that maybe if they can start over they all might have a shot. Maybe it’s not too late.

But every night she dreams. One night some terrible version of Thelma and Louise. The three of them strapped into the car as it goes careening over the edge of the cliff, the sirens dimming behind them as the car sails through the air.

Another night a Bonnie and Clyde style shoot out. The bullets flying through the air, their bodies riddled.

Last night, a quiet sort of surrender, Deb dragged away in cuffs as Harrison cried.

Every night some fucking Hollywood glamour shot. But when it comes she doubts it will be so pretty, so fucking artistically beautiful and tragic. No, it will be pain and blood and lives ruined.

She welcomes it. She can’t live like this.

* * *

Deb keeps looking at him. He can feel her eyes on his every movement, as they walk through the buzzing party, as they greet their friends. He knows she is watching him while he scoops up Harrison and places him in his car seat. She stares at him while he drives.

He can’t look at her. He’s too ashamed of what he’s done. He’s made Deb a killer. He doesn’t know how this happened, but he knows it’s his fault. He has tainted her, corrupted her. He has failed her in every possible way. And he’s afraid of how she will look at him now. Not with the love that managed to stay with her even after she found out what he was. But with a hate that is so new and fresh the air is palpable with it.

He takes her to her house and they sit outside, in the car, in silence. He waits as long as possible before he finally looks back at her. What frightens him is her lack of hate. She is blank, empty, absolutely devoid of herself. It breaks him in a way he didn’t know was possible.

He reaches for her hand and it begins to tremble and he squeezes it tightly, tries to stop the shaking that is spreading across her body. He thinks she will crumble, slip through his fingers. Instead she slumps into him, her breath warm against the crook of his neck.

Eventually he pulls away, leaves her in the car as he takes Harrison inside. He returns for her, picks her up, her body like a rag doll in his arms. He settles her on one side of the bed, takes the other side, with Harrison in the middle. He watches her until her eyes drift close. He fears she will never be the same.

* * *

They make it to Texas before Deb has her first real meltdown. She locks herself in the bathroom, refuses to talk to Dexter, no matter how much he begs. He can hear her sobs which upset Harrison who won’t stop asking why Aunt Deb is so sad. He tells his son it’s his fault. Harrison sits on his lap, pats his father’s cheek and tells him he should fix it. Dexter wishes he knew how.

Deb unlocks the door at 2am, walks out to find Dexter sitting in a chair, wide awake, waiting for her. She surprises them both when she sits down on his knee, leans into his chest and holds him to her. They stay in their embrace for an hour, before picking Harrison’s sleeping form off the bed and getting back into the car.

* * *

The two days it takes for someone to find LaGuerta’s body is nearly Debra’s undoing. Dexter watches her warily; afraid to leave her alone for too long, the haunted look in her eyes disturbing him deeply.

But if that is bad, the shock of their coworkers, Angel’s tears, the funeral are ten times worse. She muddles through somehow, uses her anger towards Dexter to hold herself together.

Dexter’s fear won’t let him leave her side. When she refuses to stay with him, he moves into her house. Deb threatens to kick him out, but he reminds her of his tremendous lock picking skills and she sulks in agreement. They go to work together, eat their meals together, even sleep together.

After two nights of hearing her cries, he opens her bedroom door on the third. Dex slips into bed, pulls her close. She fights him the first night, but she needs the comfort. After that she sleeps tucked under his arm, her head on his chest.

* * *

They are at a rest stop, a hundred miles to the Mexican border. Deb stands outside the car, her eyes trained on the sheriff’s vehicle and the uniformed man who steps out of it. She wants to end this. She wants nothing more than to walk up to him, confess her sins. She’s about to do just that when she feels Dexter’s fingers wrap around her wrist. He tugs gently until she turns towards him.

She shakes her head at him sadly. She wants to tell him she can’t, she won’t do this anymore. How can she live the rest of her life looking over her fucking shoulder? How can he ask her to? This isn’t a life, away from the people she cares about, the career she’s built, the good person she once was. But what is her life without him?

He sees how it torments her, every day it wears her down a bit more. But there are no more options for them. He kisses her forehead, her cheek, her lips, feather light. He presses his cheek against hers until she sighs, acquiesces. They get back in the car unseen.

* * *

A month LaGuerta’s been dead and Dexter isn’t sure how much longer Deb will keep it together. Others have started to notice, she’s distracted, on edge. He thought by now this would have passed, but the guilt eats away at her. When they are alone at night, she holds onto him tightly. He has come to realize that he is her life preserver, and without him she would surely have drowned by now.

Angel is invigorated by police work once more. He has dragged in yet another sorry murder suspect. He shares his enthusiasm with Deb, wonders if she has burned out. But she agrees to help him with the interrogation.

Dexter watches through the tinted glass as Deb enters the room with one Toño Vargas. The perp gives her a curious look as she leans against the wall behind Angel. The questioning is going nowhere and Toño asks to speak to the Lieutenant alone. He wastes no time “That’s some ambition mami.”

Deb sits in front of him, arms crossed as she leans back and cocks an eyebrow.

“Killing your Capitán.” Toño smirks and the color drains away from Deb’s face.

He knows he’s onto something, leans forward conspiratorially. “I saw you New Year’s Eve. I was…taking care of some business in the shipping yard. I knew you looked familiar, now I know why.”

Deb composes herself just barely. “What the fuck are you going on about?”

“I saw you. You know I did. I was wondering why some fine piece was wandering the shipping yard alone on New Year’s Eve…gun drawn.”

Deb leans forward hisses “What the fuck do you think you saw?”

“Well I heard a gunshot not long after. I heard they found your Captain there. So I’m pretty sure I saw you getting ready to kill her.” Toño leans back smugly. “So what does that get me?”

“We’re done.” Deb glares at him before she walks out of the room. She finds Dexter standing outside, alone. “Angel?”

“Got pulled away by Quinn. I’ll get rid of the tape.” Dexter turns away, but she snatches his arm.

“No. That won’t be enough. Nothing will ever fucking be enough. He will tell whoever he has to until he has a deal.” Deb nods her head in Toño’s direction.

“I can take care of that.” Dexter replies darkly.

“NO! I’m not fucking doing this anymore. I’m turning myself in. I just can’t!” She tries to walk away, but Dexter blocks her path.

“Don’t do something stupid.” Dexter attempts

“Fuck you.” Deb hisses in response.

“What are you going to tell them when they ask you why, Deb?”

Deb doesn’t have a chance to respond. Angel comes around the corner. “Any luck?” He asks hopefully.

Dexter jumps in before Deb can respond. “Deb was just thinking throwing him in the tank overnight might help him unhinge his jaw.”

“Yeah, I’ve got enough to keep him tonight.” Angel nods at Deb and heads into the room.

Deb turns to Dex. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a few hours to think about what you’re doing here.” Dex tries to reason with her.

“I have done nothing but fucking thought about this.” Deb runs her hand through her hair in frustration.

“A few more hours won’t make a difference. Let’s just go home and talk about it. Harrison is having dinner with us.” Dexter tries for distraction. It works enough to convince her to leave the station.

Once dinner is over, Harrison down for the night, Deb looks at Dexter standing across from her in the kitchen. “I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t care what happens. I need this to be over with.”

“Confessing isn’t going to make you feel any better.” Dexter tells her.

“Fuck it will! Then I can be punished.” She cries.

“What you did-“

“What I did was kill an innocent person. I can’t undo it. I can’t fix it. The least I can do is pay for it.” Deb’s voice hitches.

“Who else is going to pay Deb?” Dex asks softly.

But Deb is too riled up. She turns away from him, walks towards the front door and the table with her car keys on it. “No! I’m doing this now. I’m doing this before you can talk me out-“

The needle slides into her neck before Deb can finish the thought. She slumps forward and Dex just manages to catch her before she hits the ground.

He gets both Deb and Harrison into the car with the bag he already has for him and his son and the cash, passports, credit cards that they will need. He throws a few of Deb’s essentials into a bag. He changes out his license plates. They’re on the road in 20 minutes.

By the time she wakes up they’re into Georgia.

“I’ve been on the highway, but in the next few hours they’ll know something is wrong. If Toño talks they might start looking for you. Staying is too risky, especially after LaGuerta’s accusations. We’ll need to keep a low profile until we cross the border.” Dexter’s eyes are trained forward.

“Are you giving me a choice?” Deb mumbles.

“No.” He glances over at her determined.

She’s quiet for a long while before she speaks again. “We’re fugitives. And it’s my fault.” Her voice fades away into silence.

“It’s not your fault.” Dexter tells her. “I’m sorry for what’s happened.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “I thought when we ran they’d be coming after me. I never meant for it to be you.”

* * *

She holds her breath as the border patrolman waves them through with barely a glimpse. They’re lucky the news item barely left the Miami area. She can’t breathe easily until they are an hour away. She latches onto Dexter’s hand urgently, points him to the side of the road. When he stops, she stumbles from the car, lurches forward and vomits the measly contents of her stomach onto the desert ground.

Dexter shuts the car off, goes around to her side and wraps his arms around her shaking figure, crouched low to the ground. It’s real now, this is their new life. They are no longer the Morgans, they will never be again. She sobs against his shoulder.

She calms enough to get back into the car, her hands brush at the dust covering her jeans, she stares out at the horizon and the setting sun. A year from now they will be anonymous expatriates in a South American country. Five years from now Harrison will think it is home. Her life will never again be what she imagined. She will forever be wondering when it will catch up with them. When will they show up at their front door with their guns and their badges and their fucking handcuffs?

Dexter grasps onto her hand and she turns towards him. It’s a silent reminder that they are still together, that he will not leave her. He glances over at her, brings her hand to his lips, gives it a soft kiss. Deb takes a deep breath, looks out over the dashboard, towards their future.


End file.
